


Harry and Ron Move Out

by shes_gone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coitus Interruptus, Hair-pulling, M/M, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-18
Updated: 2007-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shes_gone/pseuds/shes_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron move out and enjoy the first private moments in their new home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry and Ron Move Out

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure if this will make you laugh or cry… but [](http://alreeces.livejournal.com/profile)[**alreeces**](http://alreeces.livejournal.com/) thinks it’s funny, so blame her if you end up traumatised. For the [First Insane Challenge](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/harry_and_ron/725473.html).

“Oh, I just can’t believe it,” Molly Weasley crooned, wiping her eyes. 

“C’mon, Mum, it’s not that big a deal. You really needn’t carry on like this.” 

“Oh, Ronnie, but it is! I knew this day would come, I did. I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.” 

Ron looked at Harry, who was standing next to him before the fireplace in Mrs Weasley’s kitchen. “You’d think she’d never had a son move out of the house before," Ron muttered. 

“Well, I’ve never had _this_ son move out, have I? Are you sure you’ll look after yourself? You really are a handful, you know. Harry, he’ll need lots of help. You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Harry said, chuckling. “I think I can handle him, don’t worry. And we’ll take great comfort in knowing your kitchen’s only a few grates down the Floo.” 

Fresh tears pooled in Mrs Weasley’s eyes, and Harry felt himself panic as he opened his mouth to assure her that they’d want to come back for much more than just her cooking. 

She waved him off with a flip of her hand. “Don’t mind me,” she sniffed. “It’s just been so nice having you boys here fulltime. Oh, I… I’ll miss you!” 

She enveloped the pair of them into a warm, teary hug. 

“How’re you gonna manage that when you won’t even let them leave, Mum?” came Ginny’s voice from the kitchen table. 

Harry met her eye over Mrs Weasley’s shoulder and grinned. She smiled back, then looked to Ron and rolled her eyes. 

Mrs Weasley tutted, but released them. She ran her hands over Harry’s shoulders, straightening his jumper, and did the same for Ron, picking a bit of fluff from his chest before patting his arm fondly. 

“Time to go, then,” Ron said. He bent down to give her a kiss, and Harry heard him murmur something against her cheek. 

“See ya, Gin,” Ron called as he scooped some Floo powder. He stepped into the fireplace and, with a roar, disappeared. 

Mrs Weasley’s watery eyes turned to Harry before her soft but surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him once again. 

“Harry, dear,” she said, “I love you. You know you'll always have a place here. Always.” 

He squeezed her a bit more tightly and managed only a small, grateful nod in response as he stepped back. 

He dug his fingers into the Floo power and looked to Ginny. “You gonna give her enough trouble for the lot of us?” 

“I'll do my best,” she replied, smirking. “See you in an hour when Ron gets hungry.” 

He chuckled and, with a fond glance about the place, Harry Flooed out of the Burrow. 

He tripped out of the fireplace and into another set of arms, longer and leaner than those he’d left behind, which caught him and wrapped around his chest before he was able to shake off his dizziness. 

“Hey, you,” came a voice Harry found even more steadying than the arms, “welcome home.” 

Harry sighed and gave his weight over to Ron’s embrace, leaning into his chest and smiling up at him. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

He turned his head and looked around the dimly lit room. Boxes were staked haphazardly all over, and a funny collection of old furniture littered the space, each piece waiting to be assigned a spot in the new home. 

Their new home. 

“Welcome home, yourself,” he said, turning back to Ron. 

He reached his chin up and pressed his lips to Ron’s for a long moment, breathing in the scent of his skin. 

As he pulled back, Ron tilted his head down so their noses kept touching, held together as though by magnets. Harry felt a smile grow on his face as Ron nuzzled him, and he reached up to kiss him again, this time opening his mouth into a kiss that quickly involved more than just their lips. 

With his hips pressed firmly against Ron, Harry sighed and felt fingers slip up under his jumper, and skim over his lower back. 

“Ron,” he said, "we should–” 

Harry couldn't complete his sentence, as Ron’s lips were apparently not yet ready to have the kiss end. 

He chuckled and let Ron’s tongue continue to have its way with him until Ron eventually pulled back, his hands cupping Harry's face and thumbs rubbing over cheekbones. 

“Sorry, did you have something you wanted to say?” 

Harry smirked at him. “Look at us, snogging like a couple of soppy gits when there's loads of work to do. You’d think we were in love or something.” 

Ron smirked back. “I know, it’s pathetic. We’d best have some utterly filthy sex to make up for it.” 

Harry grinned. “Sounds brilliant. Let’s get unpacked a bit, then we can celebrate properly,” he said. 

“Uh-uh,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Celebrate first, unpack later. Bad luck, otherwise.” 

“What?” 

“Bad luck, unpacking before you’ve properly christened the place.” 

Harry cocked his head disbelievingly. 

“Don’t tell me this is another thing the Muggles’ve got all wrong,” Ron moaned. 

“How would I know?” Harry replied, chuckling. “Look, bad luck or no, if we just get a few things taken care of, we can go to bed and not come out again for days.” 

“Oh, we’re gonna do that, too,” Ron said, leaning down to nibble on Harry’s ear. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we need to have sex now, before we do anything else.” 

Harry moaned as Ron’s lips and teeth trailed down to his neck, and Ron stepped them back into the room, towards the chaotic mess he was intent on ignoring. 

Ron murmured something against Harry’s neck and an assortment of boxes and loose items flew off the old sofa in the middle of the room. 

“Ron, we won’t get anything done today if you start up with this so early. You know we won’t stop.” 

“Yeah, counting on that.” 

Harry groaned. “But I want it to feel like we actually live here, it’ll just take a few minutes and then we won’t have to rummage around–” 

“Harry, are you even listening to me? We haven’t got any choice, there can be nothing put away before we’ve had sex.” He pushed Harry down to sit on the sofa. “I’m serious, Harry, my hands are tied. It’s… the law. There must be sex and there must be sex now.” 

“The law, is it?” Harry said, with an arched eyebrow. 

“Absolutely,” Ron said firmly. 

With a put-upon sigh, Harry reached up and grabbed a fistful of Ron’s shirt. “Well, I would hate to force you into a life of crime.” He stretched himself along the couch, pulling Ron down atop him. 

“Although, it’s funny,” he continued, as he began placing kisses along Ron’s jaw, “I’ve never actually heard of this law, and I do consider myself fairly well-versed in such matters.” 

“Mmm, well, we can't ignore it, Harry, even if the Aurors don't think it important enough to mention during training. Honestly, though, you should know these things. Don’t you read?” 

Harry groaned and let his head fall back onto the sofa cushion. “Ron, please. How many times have I told you, it really kills the mood when you start imitating–” 

“Well, stop arguing with me, then, and I won’t have to be so bossy.” 

Harry summoned as much irritation as he could muster as he glared up at Ron, but he suspected the effect was diluted somewhat by the fact that he couldn’t stop smiling. 

Ron grinned at him triumphantly before pressing his long, dangerously talented tongue into Harry’s mouth. 

Lost in the experience of a horny and quickly naked Ron, Harry had forgotten all thoughts of unpacking and its dubious legal relationship to moving-day sex by the time he found himself kneeling between long, freckled legs, his lips wrapped firmly around his favourite redheaded cock. 

Ron’s fingers were in his hair, alternately fisting large handfuls of it and massaging his scalp soothingly, seemingly worried they’d pulled too hard. 

Harry bobbed and sucked and delighted in the too-hard tug on his hair when he slid his fingers behind Ron’s balls, teasing sensitive skin and sliding between the cheeks of his arse. 

Ron’s moans became more rhythmic and high-pitched and Harry pressed his finger further back along Ron’s cleft, ready to press into him at just the right moment, when the dim light in the room suddenly changed and took on an eerie green glow. 

“Ron,” came one of the most unwelcome voices Harry could imagine at that moment, “I was just upstairs and you seem to have forgot– Oh! Oh, my.” 

For a moment, Harry thought he must have been petrified, as his body refused to respond to his brain’s frantic instructions. 

Then he thought he might be dead, as all the feeling in his limbs melted away under the weight of the eyes looking up at him from the fireplace. 

Then he wondered if he hadn't gone insane, as he found himself trying to work out whether the physical properties of Floo powder meant that he would be looking directly or indirectly at his serpentine caller, should a Basilisk who looked remarkably like Mrs Weasley Floo call him. 

Before he could determine the answer to the dead-or-merely-petrified question, his body seemed to catch up with his rapidly unravelling mind, and he found himself hiding behind the sofa so suddenly that he couldn't actually remember jumping over the back of it. 

There was a beat of horrible silence before Ron gave a choked cry and lumbered over the back of the sofa with less agility than Harry seemed to have done, and Harry eyed Ron’s painfully swollen cock apologetically. 

“Well, I, oh… I’m sorry, boys, it appears I’ve interrupted a little something,” came the voice from the fireplace again. “But, but don’t worry, I didn’t see much of anything. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, at least.” 

“Mum!” Ron whimpered. “Could you please Floo back later?” 

“Now, now, Ron, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Mrs Weasley said, too loudly. “I should’ve waited a bit longer, everyone knows it’s bad luck not to properly christen the place before you unpack. But, I must say, boys, there is a reason the Floo’s connected to the lounge and not bedroom, isn’t there?” 

“A Floo I’m having disconnected in about five bloody seconds!” mewled Ron. 

“Ah, well, I’d best be quick about passing these things through, then. I’ll just leave them on the floor here for you. You missed your entire top drawer, Ron, and I’d like to see you get on without any pants!" 

Ron gave a small, horrible whimper as his head fell onto Harry’s shoulder. 

“Although, you do seem to be doing alright so far.” 

“MUM!” 

“Yes, yes, sorry, I’ll just talk to you boys later, then.” 

The green light didn’t immediately fade, and Harry felt Ron swallow. 

“Just one more thing, Ronald,” Mrs Weasley said, her voice suddenly taking on her more typical, no-nonsense edge. “I do hope I’ve raised you well enough that Harry can expect you to return the favour.”


End file.
